Shattering the Broken
by imaginationstarie13
Summary: As Fenton tries to track down the assassin who took the lives of both his sons, old memories reawaken. They are painful memories that had marked the way of the lives of the two brothers, sealing their fates. Sequel to Guardian Stalker
1. Chapter 1

Second part! Yay!  
Like I have mentioned before, there will be less violence and killing in this part of the story. Instead, there are a lot of flashbacks. *shrugs*  
I do not own the Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

Nothing could replace the quietness in the house. It was a constant reminder to Fenton on how he failed his family. His sons were both dead; their remains were only ashes in jars that sat on his desk. His wife kidnapped by the same man who killed his sons, her days most likely numbered. And the PI still had very little to work with.

_Why me, Snake?_ It was a dumb question. The assassin had gone after the eldest son first. The brunette and another girl were in a program that ATAC had just begun to mold that taught some agents how to use weapons. That meant that they could become the biggest threat, and the only solution was to kill them.

But Snake had made it clear that Frank _wanted_ to die. And somehow, Fenton had allowed himself to grasp the idea, despite the fact the he could barely understand.

Joe was next. It made sense in that weird way that could be seen only as a form of logic. The brothers were close, so it seemed like a natural choice to go after Joe next. The assassin had also used the blonde as a way to threaten Fenton. It had failed in the long run, however. Fenton had continued to investigate, and Snake kidnapped Joe in the end for what appeared to be fun.

And then Joe let himself to die. He had thrown the gun to Snake, who made the fatal shot. And the minutes before his death were spent yelling at Fenton, pointing out how he failed as a father.

Laura was taken the minute after Joe fell. The PI was powerless to do anything. If he did, his wife would surely be dead.

_"If you want to save everyone else, listen to Snake. It's too late for me."_ Joe's last words haunted the PI, threatening the calm demeanor that he was so used to. He leaned against his desk, hands folded and propping his head as his eyes remained unfocused. The memory ran over and over again, wearing his mind away.

He got up minutes later, walking down the empty hall. He was barely aware of his movements, but after living in the house for so long, he knew exactly where to step.

Within moments, he found himself in the kitchen, standing in front of the refrigerator. His eyes had focused in on a single picture, but there was no memory that formed.

Fenton frowned, removing the magnet that held the photo in place. He turned it over to find a date scrawled on the back, indicating the picture was years old. It took him a second to realize what exactly happened on that particular date.

_Frank's first day in kindergarten._ He flipped the glossed paper and looked at the photo again. It revealed a pile of blocks, stacked to what appeared to be a very tall height. If not for the sturdy structure of the base, it probably should have toppled over.

_How come I don't remember this?_

But the ringing of the telephone pulled Fenton away from his curiosity. He set the picture down on the counter as he took the cordless phone that was sitting in its base.

It was left there during the whole week, untouched. Its partner, which was a crudely drawn picture of what appeared to be a castle with two little boys on top, held by a magnet next to the spot the photo had once been in, was left alone.

---------------

_Frank Hardy learned a lot during that first day of school. He met new friends, and had a new mentor. Before he went to school, it seemed that only his parents knew all the answers. But now there was the teacher, Mr. Jones. And one day, all of the teachers that he had would make him as smart and wise as the adults._

_They had built a giant tower, as a way to make sure that the day was unforgettable. Phil (who hated being called Phillip), Callie (who would scare the daylights out of someone if they did something she didn't like), and himself had worked extra hard on it. Mr. Jones had taken a picture of it before it was deconstructed, and managed to get all of them copies before the day ended._

_"See, Mom?" School had let out, and Frank was practically jumping up and down with joy to show his mother his accomplishment as they walked to the car. It had only been the first day, too…_

_"A very beautiful job, Frank." Laura beamed at her son, which just made him shine brighter. If his mother, the person who knew so much that she was a librarian (which was a very big feat in the eyes of any six year old), liked it, then surely he had done something excellent._

_"Lemme see!" Joe ran up to his brother, and in the process almost knocked him down. The five year old didn't have a good of a day as his older brother; it wasn't hard to see, since the one person he was most attached too had gone off for a whole day. "Cool!"_

_Joe turned his bright blue eyes towards his mother. "Why can't I go to school?"_

_"Because you're not old enough, sweetie." She patted his head affectionately. "Besides, then you would leave Aunt Trudy alone."_

_"But she's mean! She said I can't play outside!"_

_"I'm sure that's only because she doesn't want you to get all muddy. Then you'll have to take a bath."_

_"Eeewww." The blonde boy stuck out his tongue._

_Frank laughed. It felt so right, but there was still something missing…_

_"Mom, where's Dad?"_

_She sighed, her eyes appearing vacant. "I'm afraid that the case your father was working on is forcing him to come home late today."_

_"Oh. Okay." It was as if the light just disappeared; he didn't feel complete without his father's approval._

_So, instead of continuing to talk about his day, Frank stayed quiet, and went straight to his room the moment they got home. The only thing that pulled him out of his mood was when Joe demanded that his brother help him make a tower while waiting for dinner._

_Joe always did have a good affect on Frank. This day was no exception._

_When Fenton Hardy did manage to make his appearance ten minutes before bedtime, all of the blonde's hard work was completely destroyed._

_"Dad, look!" Frank held up the photo as his father walked past._

_The man barely looked at it. "Nice job, Frank. Laura…" The rest of his words were lost as he walked to the kitchen._

_Frank knew that his father didn't really see the picture. He didn't understand that his father had a horrible day, or that he was tired beyond belief. All he knew was that Fenton Hardy, the greatest man to walk the face of the planet, didn't look._

_He tried again, following the man. "Dad…?"_

_"Frank, I'm really tired. You can show me tomorrow, can't you?" The man didn't even look at him when he responded._

_"But-"_

_"Frank…"_

_The boy knew that voice; it was the one all adults used when they were running out of patience. So, instead of pressing the matter, he just slipped back into the living room, silent._

_"Hey, Frank." The boy looked up, to see that his younger brother was holding out a piece of paper. The brunette took it, and looked at what was drawn onto the once blank space._

_"It's us! See, we're on the tower you built!"_

_A smile began to form on Frank's face. "That's awesome, Joe!"_

_The blonde beamed back. "I knew you would like it!"_

_"We should put them somewhere."_

_"How about on the fridge?"_

_"Good idea." A few minutes, some tip toeing around the figure that was known as their father, and a search for magnets gave them the desired results; the photo and picture, side by side, on the refrigerator._

_It turns out that Fenton didn't have time the next day, or the day after that, to spare time to glance at the fridge. And when he did, his response mirror what he had said before._

_But something had changed in Frank. He might have learned a lot that first day of school, and for all the days to come. But his most important lesson was on the fridge to remind him._

_Every day after that, Frank made sure to give Joe something fun to do while he waited for school to end and the two to be reunited for adventure._

--------------

The gun became easier to handle and aim. It surprised him, in some ways. Then again, he was learning from the best.

"You didn't tell her, right?" He didn't turn around to greet the assassin; instead, he reloaded and aimed at the paper target again.

"I'm not an idiot." The frown on Hawk's face could be heard through her tone.

"Sorry."

"Forget it." She watched silently as he shot six times into the target, all of them hitting dead center, before speaking again. "Are you going to surpass him?"

"Me versus him, Hawk. No way in hell."

"Then what are you doing? You've been going at this for hours, if you haven't noticed."

"Catching up." He turned around, meeting her eyes. "If I'm supposed to reach the level that you two have set, I need to practice."

"I see." Her gaze didn't waver. "Maybe you need an assignment or something. To boost your level."

He frowned. "Snake said-"

"I can handle Snake. Besides, I think he'll agree. Just have to find someone really low on the radar. Maybe a completely different case." She turned her head, as if scared that the last words would wound him. "To keep Fenton away."

"Okay," he said. He watched her walk away, wondering if this was the time to ask the question that was burning in him. "How many times did Jackie die?"

It was swift and sudden, enough to stop her walk back to their base. Her head was facing away, and her eyes would most likely be empty if he actually saw them. "Twice."

"And which one hurt her the most?"

"The first time." She paused, as if looking for something. "Just like Frank. Just like Joseph."

"They all died twice in the end."

"And the first one stung the most." She resumed her retreat, before stopping one more time. "Their deaths aren't final, Lion."

"Of course they aren't." The newest assassin turned back to the paper target. "If they were, then Snake wouldn't try to make me his replacement."

* * *

Nice job, Fenton. Making your kid feel unimportant...


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own the Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

"What do you want, Snake?" Fenton hissed into the phone. The bastard had the nerve to call him yet again after the torment he put the family through. Not only was the assassin trying to take down ATAC, but he had to drag Laura into it, when she shouldn't even have known…

_"I'm hurt, Fenton. I thought that you would like to know that Hawk is… busy at the moment."_

"You killed her, didn't you?"

_"Now why would you care about that? I thought you would have been happier. Now it's only you and me…"_

It was true. Fenton felt a small part of the burden on his shoulders lift slightly. But the thought that came after it made his small bit of happiness diminish; Hawk could have been easier to catch than Snake. If they caught her before, then Snake would be a cinch to get behind bars.

"Where's my wife?"

_"Safe, actually. Do you really want to talk to her, Fenton?"_

"Yes."

There was a pause, and the faint sounds of shuffling from the other side. A tired, feminine voice filled the speaker. _"Fenton?"_

"Laura, are you okay?"

_"Yes, I'm fine."_

"I'm going to find you soon. And then Snake-"

_"Please, no."_ She sounded shaken, and possibly on the verge of sobbing. _"Don't take your anger on Snake, Fenton. Please."_

"What? Why?"

_"Just believe me."_ The line went dead afterwards.

Fenton slammed his fist onto the desk. He was sitting in his study when the call came, going through piles and piles of old cases. Something about the latest killings had seemed familiar, so he had gone through old files in hopes for a clue. He had gotten no where when the ringing filled the house.

_Bastard._ He picked up another file, which seemed heavier than the others. Frowning, he opened it up to find a small book wedged between the papers. It had barely been touched, but the pages had dulled from the pearly white they once were.

It only took one glance at the cover for Fenton to remember what it was exactly.

_I got this for Joe for Christmas when he was in elementary school. What's it doing here?_ He pulled out a folded piece of paper that was tucked between the pages. Messy handwriting had filled in the blanks, but it still resembled a letter.

_Dear Santa…_

---------------------

_Christmas. It meant a lot of things to the Hardys. There were games and presents and a big feast that Aunt Trudy would cook…_

_The most important thing for the eight-year-old blonde headed boy, however, was that Fenton Hardy was going to come home and spend time with them._

_The case had taken their father away from them for too long. Everyone had actually agreed on this one point, which the agreement itself was such a surprise since everyone's opinions differed. The man had been away for months on a particularly difficult case, but had promised that he would return home for the holidays._

_The days had not been counted down by how close the holiday was; instead, it was how close the possible day that Fenton Hardy would return. Despite this, both counts ended up being the same; Christmas morning._

_The blonde had woken up at an early hour, and went straight into his older brother's room. Frank would usually yell at Joe for doing such a thing, but today was Christmas. Surely Frank wouldn't mind._

_And the brunette boy didn't. In fact, the older boy was half way out of bed when Joe came in. "Merry Christmas, Joe!"_

_"Merry Christmas, Frank!" The blonde was beaming, almost like the star on top of the tree the family (minus Fenton) had decorated. "Can we wake up Mom? And Aunt Trudy?"_

_If Frank had noticed the missing question about their father, he didn't show it. "Maybe. It's still dark out."_

_"It's only…" The blonde stared at the clock in Frank's room, trying to figure out what the hands were indicating. "Does that say five o'clock?"_

_Frank nodded. "We should wait."_

_"But I don't wanna!"_

_"I don't want to either, but Mom and Aunt Trudy are tired. Why don't be play a game while we wait?"_

_It only took Joe a second to agree. But instead of playing a game, the two brothers took out a set of blocks that they've had for years. Instead of a tower, the two attempted to make their own Christmas tree._

_"It won't stay up!"_

_"It's hard. The stump won't hold anything."_

_"How about we make it without a stump?"_

_"Good idea Joe. But then where will the presents go?"_

_"I dunno…"_

_That's how their mother found them two hours later. She had decided to watch quietly for a few moments, before coming in. "Merry Christmas, boys!"_

_"Merry Christmas, Mom!" The boys rushed to her._

_"How long have you been up?" Aunt Trudy asked from the doorway._

_"Five!"_

_"And you let us sleep in," Laura said, patting Joe on the head. "I think that breakfast can wait this year."_

_"Boys need proper nutrition, Laura!"_

_"But they didn't wake us up early this year," the younger woman pointed out. "Remember last year?"_

_"Fine, go! But if they were my children…"_

_The rest of their strict aunt's words were never heard as Frank and Joe raced down the stairs. Joe was thinking about one thing: if his parents had gotten him that toy car he had wanted since September. He had been very good that year (not counting that incident with Brian Conrad, but it hadn't even been his fault!), and he had shown his mother iand/i father multiple times when they passed by the display case._

_But a bigger surprise was waiting for them near the tree._

_"Dad! You're home!"_

_"Merry Christmas!" Their father enveloped them in a hug, grinning very wide. "How are my two favorite boys?"_

_"Great!"_

_"That's good. Here are your presents!" Fenton handed each one of them a colorfully wrapped package, before turning his attention to his wife and sister._

_Joe frowned, after he was sure his father wasn't looking. The package had said it was from his mother and father, but it wasn't big enough to hold a car. In fact, it didn't even look big enough for clothing!_

_He tore the paper off, not sure what to find. The hardcover book on scientific facts, however, wasn't even one of his first million guesses._

_He stared at it for a second, then looked to see what his brother had gotten. It was almost an identical book, except it told history facts._

_"Do you like it?" Fenton asked over his shoulder, gathering the papers from what appeared to be his newest case._

_"It's… great." If Fenton had paused for one second, he would have heard the dissatisfaction in Joe's voice. But, the man was too busy with the details of his newest case._

_It was only hours later when Joe looked at the book again. He knew that his father meant well, but somehow this gift didn't scream love like the ones his mother got the brothers when_ _their father was away._

Dear Santa, _was how the letter was started, a few hours away from Christmas dinner. The blonde sat in the living room, pencil and paper in hand. He didn't know how he would get the letter to the North Pole by nightfall, but he knew that he had to try._

Thank you very much for the gift that you left under the tree for me. Me and Frank both liked the presents.

I want to ask you something. Can you get Dad to stay home longer? I do not really like his gift that much, but that isn't why I want him home. It is lonely without a daddy here. And when he is here, it is like he is a _(strager and strager were both crossed out, and Joe had to get Frank to help him spell the word)_ stranger. And Mommy is really sad without Dad.

Please Santa.

From Joe.

_"What do you have there, Joe?" Laura asked, a bit worried from the active boy's sudden quietness._

_"Making a letter to Santa. I want him to help Dad stay home." He held up his final product, and watched as his mother read it quickly._

_"I'm not sure Santa can help you father," Laura said softly, kneeling so that she was eye level with her son. "I'm not sure if anyone can."_

_"But he can try, right?"_

_"He could." She paused for a moment, forming a new thought. "How about this; tomorrow, I'll go get you that toy car you've wanted."_

_"But it's not Christmas anymore."_

_"I know that. But that's what you wanted, and your father isn't good at remembering these sort of things." The last words of the sentence had an evident sadness to them. "In fact, we'll say this is a gift for being a big boy."_

_"A big boy?"_

_His mother nodded. "Big boys want to help others, and you wanted to help me."_

_Joe thought for a second. "I don't want the car, Mommy."_

_"Then what do you want?"_

_"I want Daddy to stay home."_

--------------------

"You're quiet, Hawk." The assassin chugged some of the water before continuing. "What's wrong?"

"I talked to Snake. He found a case just for you." She slid him a folder from across the table. "A day's drive away, and two targets that have nothing to do with ATAC."

"What's wrong?" he repeated.

She sighed. "Snake's holding back. He was holding back the whole time. But once that moment comes, he'll truly be himself."

"A killer worse than what he is already?" The idea rolled in his head, and a grin began to appear on his face. "Perfect."

"You're not worried?"

"With that final division, there'll be two people. A killer, and a guy."

"A guy who has died twice. And will die more."

He took about sip of water. "He wants to die, Hawk. I can't do anything about him anymore. I tried, but he won't listen. Why do you think he's allowing me to become his replacement in the first place?"

"You can't replace Snake, Lion. None of us can."

"I know. But let him think that for now. When the time comes, both of them will wake up to reality. We're not gonna let them go easily."

* * *

Two strikes, Fenton...


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for taking so long. My computer got sick, I got sick... It wasn't fun.  
I do not own the Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

Something had gone wrong. Not with Fenton Hardy, of course. Despite the lack of sleep and the emptiness that could be seen in his eyes, he was in better condition that poor Milan Shia.

The woman had done nothing wrong. She had worked for ATAC since the moment it was created. Once, she was a very devoted person, helping charities and other organizations in her spare time. He had met her once, and left her with a feeling that the world was somehow a better place.

Now, she had been found with two bullets in her skull.

It made no sense. The woman's record was cleaner that his own. Why had Snake killed her?

A memory flooded his mind, recalling the moment he had first met the woman. It was during a gathering that ATAC decided to have. A first (and probably only) in the history of ATAC of ever meeting people who work for the secret organization without finding out the hard way.

Did something happen that made her a target? Did she discover something that should have stayed hidden?

But another question was waiting in his head, having just slipped into his mind. What were his sons doing during the dance? Was there a girl that Joe was trying to impress? Was there someone that Frank talked to, discovering new information?

Fenton couldn't remember. The only things that could be recalled in his fatigued brain were conversations with various adults who helped kept the organization running. They were people he didn't know until that very moment. He probably hasn't been in contact with about half of them after that.

And yet, he couldn't remember where his own sons were. Deep down in his heart, it stung. But he brushed away the feeling, knowing that justice needed to be served, before the mourning could be allowed.

------------------

If they don't shut up soon, I'm just gonna leave. Where the hell is Frank, anyways? _a bitter thirteen year old Joseph Hardy thought, standing next to his father. Any good feelings about attending this social gathering that he had found himself in were washed away within minutes upon entering. He had been roped into a conversation between his father and some of the board members, and it looked like he wouldn't be able to escape soon._

_His brother had already disappeared into the crowd, which the blonde was growing increasingly jealous of. The only reason he hadn't walked off was because they were talking about him. About potential and how well he was going to do. By now, it had all washed over him._

_"Excuse me?" The conversation paused, and the attention moved to a girl who appeared to be Joe's age. Her black hair was in a bun, two decorated chopsticks sticking out to one side. Unlike most of the girls who attended and had donned dresses, she wore a blouse and slacks. Her eyes seemed to have dulled a long time ago, and the expressionless mask seemed to complete the look. "Joe Hardy?"_

_"Yeah?" The girl, putting it best, was a little beyond plain. She wouldn't be someone one would spare more than a quick glance when they walked down the street. However, she /ididi save him, if only for a brief moment of two…_

_"Your brother's looking for you. He asked me, but ran off after I told him I didn't see you. Now I found you, but he's missing."_

Sounds just like Frank. Fourteen years old, and he's already creating bad habits for dealing with girls, _he thought. "I better go find him, then." He bid everyone goodbye for the moment, and followed the girl to the hallway outside of the large ballroom. "So, where'd he go?"_

_"I lied." Suddenly, her face had an outburst of emotion. It was a mixture of boredom, defiance, and a hint of anger to complete it. "You looked like you couldn't stand listening."_

_"True," Joe admitted with a chuckle. "What's your name, anyways?"_

_"Why'd you want to know? Shouldn't dear golden boy starting wooing ladies or some crap like that?"_

_"Humor me. Besides, I need to know the name of the… the name of the warrior who saved me."_

_"Warrior?" A smirk adorned her mouth, pushing away the plain demeanor._

_"Princess doesn't fit you."_

_"For good reasons." She held out her hand. "Jackie Rose."_

_"Rose? Nice last name." Really, he was just attempting to make conversation. He didn't want to go back into the room and be forced to stand on the side of another conversation._

_"It's not my last name. It's actually my middle." She leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. "Real last name's Chang. But my family put me into the hands of Social Service."_

_"Really? Why?" He slid down next to her, prodding for the story._

_Jackie seemed to be debating whether of not to reveal her past to some she met only minutes ago._

_"You don't have to tell me," Joe said, trying to make it less awkward. "I just need something to do so I don't have to back in there."_

_She sighed. "Don't want to hear them talk about us becoming political pawns, right?"_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"We're political pawns, when you think about it. I mean, we have good morals and all, but I bet the only reason that the FBI, CIA, and all those other groups agree is because it benefits them. Don't you think?"_

_"Sounds like a conspiracy."_

_"If you lived my life, everything is." She paused, staring at the marble tiles on the floor. "My parents wanted perfect children who could do anything. I was the only one who didn't live up to that expectation. When I was ten, they thought I was a failure."_

_"Oh. Sorry." He followed her gaze, not sure if he should spill his own guts to her. "I feel like that with my dad all the time."_

_"Like what?"_

_"A big failure to the Fenton Hardy name."_

_"That sucks. You didn't ask to have his as a father."_

_"He's a great role model," Joe said, quickly defending his father. "It's just… He's a private investigator. Someone that reached such a high level. Not a father."_

_"Then here's some advice; don't try to chase after his standards."_

_"Huh? But-"_

_"Listen…" Jackie paused suddenly, as if realizing what she was doing. "What is it about you that makes me want to spill my guts?"_

_Joe shrugged. "My charming good looks?"_

_"Right, sure." She rolled her eyes. "Anyways, if you keep shooting for that one thing, you're gonna lose yourself."_

_"But I_ want _to be like him. Just not as cold."_

_"Good luck with that."_

_"Don't you want a family?"_

_She gave a laugh that seemed to mock the very idea, but the blonde felt that there was a small dose of sadness within it. "It's too late for me. Besides, ATAC thinks it's actually kinda good that I move around so often."_

_"It's not healthy."_

_"Either I move around, or I live with shit bags. It's not perfect either way, but whatever…"_

_"Well…" Joe searched his pockets, and pulled out a napkin. "Got a pen?"_

_"I'm supposed to call you up and talk to you like you're a shrink?" Despite the statement, she pulled one of the chopsticks out of her hair, twisted it, and handed it to the blonde._

_"It's a pen?"_

_"Practical. This kid once told me I should use them for eating. Should of punched him, but I didn't." She shrugged._

_He took it, and scribbled something down to the best of his abilities, using his hand as a sort of table. He handed them back to her less than a minute later. "If you're in the neighborhood, ring me up to get a tour."_

_"Do you always talk like this?"_

_"It's part of the Joe Hardy charm." He flashed her a smile, which made the girl laugh._

_"Suuuure." Jackie got up, dusting away dirt from her pants with her hands. "I better go. And you better find your brother. Keep him company the rest of the night."_

_"You're not gonna give me your contact info?"_

_"Nothing about my life is consistent." She began to walk to the elevator at the end of the hall. "See ya."_

_"But-" He watched, not sure what else to say. Sighing, Joe said, "See you around."_

_He turned back to the entrance of the gathering, and started to adjust his tie for probably the fifth time that night. He could hear his father's voice near the door, talking to other members._

_"…they won't disappoint, I can assure you."_

_"Of course. They cannot ruin the Hardy name, can they?"_

_Something inside the blonde constricted around his heart, threatening to pull him out of the world. Does his father think that they'll fail him? And what if they actually do mess up? Will the slightest tarnish to the man's name just separate them further?_

Don't try to chase after his standards.

_Didn't Jackie just tell him that a few minutes ago? But she didn't understand; she was basically an orphan after all. But maybe she knew something…_

_"Joe?" The blonde turned around, and was greeted with the sight of his brunette brother._

_"Hey. Where've you been? Find a closet and a hot chick?"_

_Frank rolled his eyes. "I was looking for you this whole time. Where the hell were you?"_

_Joe burst into laughter, before slinging an arm around his confused older brother's neck. "Escaping this boring conversation. Come on. Let's raid the punch table."_

---------------

Lion left the building through the back entrance, sighing and using his hand to comb through his hair. The day had been long and dull, making waste of time he could of use to go after targets. But the outcome had satisfied him, making it a little better.

Hawk was leaning against her car, flipping a coin through the air over and over. "Your end of the issue done with?"

"It was long, but it's finally done. Where are the other two?" he asked, expecting to see Laura Hardy and Snake somewhere near the car.

Hawk sighed. "Left. Snake's growing attached, if you can actually believe it. He probably has some kind of… well, I guess you could call it a 'game,' for Fenton."

"Doesn't he always?" The assassin entered the passenger side of the car, while Hawk got behind the wheel. "I heard about a murder. Happened while we were all talking."

"Who was it?"

"A woman named Milan Shia. Ring any bells?"

The woman frowned. "She's not on our target list."

"And guess where we all were when it happened?"

Hawk's eye's seemed to become full of rage, while her face stayed neutral. "Does Snake know?"

"Yeah. I told him."

"And…?"

"He says he'll take care of it."

"Let's hope so."

The car quickly went out of sight from the people in the city. No one had bothered to notice the car, or stopped and pondered what kind of people were behind the wheel.

* * *

First actual glance at Jackie. Also, some wisdom for Joe which will be important later on...

Now to bother everyone with a question: There's a poll in my profile concerning what I'll be writing during October. The Assassin stories shall continue to run during the same time, but there is an option in the poll to make it my main focus. (This isn't including Death Do You Part, because I plan to finish that up this month.) If you can, go over and vote for either making this my main focus, or vote for one of the other options so that I'll be making a story exclusively for Halloween. Your voice is appreciated :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Please read this before going onto the chapter.  
**There are suicide themes in this chapter. They're not too bad, but I think warning you is a good thing.

Anyways, sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I can promise that things plot-wise will start picking up. As in time-wise... we'll have to see.  
I do not own the Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

The note wasn't attached to the case at all. In fact, he probably should have tossed it to the side. But there was something in the words written on the tear stained paper that got to him. And that simple thing stung his heart.

_Is this really what Frank thought? That he was a failure in my eyes?_ Fenton frowned as he looked over the note. The memory of the mission gone astray wasn't pleasant, but to lead his eldest son to suicide…

This was the big secret that seemed to have eaten Joe. That had let Snake easily take Frank's life, without much resistance. It signaled the beginning, and yet it somehow wasn't the cause.

_Then what was the beginning? What was the one point that started it?_

However, Fenton already knew the answer was long from his reach. There were some things that even private eyes couldn't find, no matter how good they were.

_Had the mission been that bad on him? What about Joe? How much pain did he feel when he failed?_

Was "failed" even the right word? It was beyond their faults of the events that had occurred. It seemed that Joe had understood that; when the PI had tried to speak to his sons about it, there was something about the blonde that screamed, "It wasn't my fault!"

Frank was another story. If he stopped and thought about it, maybe there were signs to warn Fenton that it was going to happen.

He looked at the paper again. He had found it wedged between pages of a history book. Frank had always liked history. It was not unusual to find his buried in some book on a rainy day, or sprouting random facts during dinner. Laura would have an idea of what the brunette was referring to, and Joe would complain, or try to contradict his older brother with his own facts.

Fenton had never really contributed to those conversations.

It hit him then, as he sat at his desk like he had done countless times over the years, that it was too late. He had heard the babbling of others who had lost their loved ones before. They had always wished for a second chance in some way or form. And he, the great Fenton Hardy, never knew that feeling. Sure, he had lost partners and friends and wished that they were at his side once again. But his sons had always come back. Not in the same condition they left, but they always came back.

But this time, there was no hope dwelling within his once broken heart, now shattered into millions of pieces.

-----------

_His heart felt useless. It had been smashed to little bits the second the gun went off._

Why didn't we notice him? We're supposed to be the best that there are, and we failed to keep the guy alive!

_The fact that made everything ten times worse was the fact that their father was deeply upset._

He never failed the way we did. He never completely ruined his cases the way we ruined ours.

_This had led the brunette, now fifteen years old, to think about what his life meant. Was it really worth living if he was a disappointment? His ignorance had cost a life, and maybe more in the future. What seemed worse was that he failed his father._

_The knife was ready, gleaming under the dim light coming from the window. It was dangerously close to his wrist, but that fact was accepted with some form of happiness. He wasn't going to be a burden anymore…_

"_Hey, Joe?" He knew the blonde wasn't there. In fact, no one was home on the warm, June night. But it felt like somehow, Joe was looking up from whatever he was doing, and wondering about him right now._

_There was another reason he wanted to die. Maybe their father would show more sympathy towards his remaining heir. Two failures could easily be overshadowed by a single, grieving boy in the eyes of a saddened parent. Right?_

"_It'll work out, Joe. Believe me."_

"_Frank?"_

_The voice startled him, and Frank turned around to see his brother's figure, outlined by the light from the hallway._

"_Frank?" the younger teenager repeated. "What… Is that a knife?"_

_Whatever happened next was a blur. All that Frank knew was that he had to complete his job, had to end his own life…_

_And he had to save his brother's in the process._

_But within minutes, it was clear who would be the victor of what felt like a wrestling match. The blonde had always been stronger and passionate about things. With those two things combined, he could easily kill if he had the need to._

_The knife had been torn from his grasp, sent spinning to the wall. It left a mark, but neither of the brothers really noticed._

_Joe had managed to wrestle Frank to the ground, making sure that the older one could not move._

"_The hell is wrong with you?!"_

"_Nothing. Everything. I don't know!"_

"_That's real helpful, you know." The blue eyes turned away, staring at the knife. "You wanted to kill yourself. Why?"_

"_Because there's no reason to live."_

_His voice was whispering the words, yet they filled the room easily. And, for the first time in a while, tears were slipping from his eyes to run down his cheeks._

"_There's always a reason, Frank. Why do you-" The younger brother paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "Failure doesn't mean you lose."_

"_What are you talking-"_

"_It's because of the mission, isn't it?" Joe sighed, his blue eyes looking out the window, searching for something that was beyond his sight. "So one life was lost, and you're freaking out that they'll be more."_

"_How'd-"_

_But Joe seemed keen on interrupting his brother that night. "I've been thinking about it too. I mean, there _had _to have been a clue somewhere, right? So why did we miss it? Why couldn't we prevent the assassination?"_

_The questions were all familiar ones, but they sounded different when they came from Joe's questioning voice, rather than Frank's own critical one._

"_Maybe we have to go into the mind of an assassin to understand." Joe paused, then let out a chuckle. "Boy, wouldn't that be something."_

"_Joe…" The brunette struggled to find the words. "We're supposed… we're supposed to save lives. But we _didn't. _What are we gonna do if we fail at the one thing we're supposed to do?"_

"_Try again."_

"_How can you be so confident? What happens if we keep failing?"_

"_First off, it doesn't hurt to have a bit of pride and ego in your life." Frank couldn't help but roll his eyes at such comment. "And if we keep failing, we either try again or find another thing to be good at."_

"_Another thing?" Frank let out a low, sad chuckle. "Have you given any thought to what Dad would say?"_

"_He's the root of this problem, isn't he?" When silence answered the question, he continued. "Don't try to chase after his standards."_

"_What?"_

"_Someone told me that a while ago. We're not carbon copies, Frank. We're ourselves." Whatever Joe was look for through the window, he seemed to have found it. "I trust you with my life more than I trust Dad. That has to mean something."_

_The words seemed to pierce Frank's heart, but had the opposite affect than their intentions. "Most people would rather have a father than a brother."_

"_Says who?"_

"_Wouldn't it be better? Having a father to show you the ropes, instead of an incompetent brother?" He felt his spirit glow a bit at the thought of the best reason for him to die. "Let me go, Joe. If I die, you can have that life. You can have that father that you've always wanted. He'll-"_

"_It won't matter." Hesitantly, Joe got up, allowing Frank freedom to move. But the blonde grabbed the knife first. "Dad can try and be the best that he can. But it'll be too late."_

"_What-"_

"_Both Hardy brothers would be death."_

_Frank's eyes widened at the sound of the hidden threat._

"_Joe-"_

_The younger teen, who was already at the doorway, picking up the bag he discarded while stopping Frank. He didn't turn around, but said softly, "Dad's not as important as you are, bro."_

_The urge took weeks to die down, and months before Frank could keep it out of his mind. But he was willing to deal with the struggle._

_As long as his brother lived, he would live._

---------------------

He could sense something wrong wit her. Her movements lacked the flow that he was accustomed to seeing from the other assassin.

He didn't even have to say anything before she told him the newest issue.

"Fenton's gonna get kidnapped."

It wasn't any problem to them, when Lion thought about it. In truth, he could care less about the PI getting pushed off a cliff. So, in reality, it wasn't the problem at all.

He went through the files, not really paying attention to the words printed upon the paper. His gaze wandered a few times, taking notes of the scenes going on beyond the window that he was facing. It was only when Hawk began to get up to check on Laura that he asked the question.

"Was it Snake's idea?"

"No." Hawk left the room, sparing no glance to his features that showed surprise.

So that was the problem. It wasn't the fact that Fenton was going to find himself prisoner within days, maybe even hours. It was the fact that it wasn't Snake who wanted to do it. Snake was getting his own orders, and for once, he decided to follow them.

It was a full hour before the other assassin returned. By then, he had finished looking through all the files, and was loading his gun.

"Going out?" she asked, her voice lacking interest.

He ignored the question. "You saw the files before. Think I have enough bullets?"

"There's extra in the car."

He nodded, pushing the chair back. The sound of the legs scraping across the old floor filled the room, trying to push back the silence. Before he walked away, he asked, "You know what Joe asked for before he died?"

"Depends on who he asked."

"Snake's promise is something different than this."

"What'd he ask for?"

"Revenge."


	5. Chapter 5

Short, but I couldn't think of too much to stuff this chapter with. I'll make it up next chapter.  
I do not own the Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

Fenton didn't know what he had drunk with his coffee this morning. At first guess, he assumed that it was illegal and dangerous in big doses.

Hopefully, whoever spiked his caffeine dose that day didn't put _too_ much in.

His eyes darted back and forth, the only thing that he had complete control over. The rest of his body had frozen, paralyzed by the unknown substance. It was the middle of a raid, too. Around him, other agents were scrambling. What they thought was a perfect place to gather information about the assassins turned out to be something completely different.

_It was all a trap. But why does it feel different than the others?_

"It's different, isn't it Fenton? But you know me; I love to change things up."

The voice had read his mind. The same voice that had harassed his family. The same person who killed both of his sons. The one that ruin his life.

The other agents were falling dead all around him. But he was alive, relatively untouched if one ignored the fact that his coffee was spiked that morning.

He wanted to shout, hiss, _something._ He rather not take a bullet from a gun, his body turned and paralyzed by the assassin.

Once again, the assassin had somehow read his mind. The man said, "You won't take a bullet just yet, Fenton. You'll have your chance after all of these bastards are dead. Won't that be perfect?"

The PI wanted to answer. Wanted to punch the man who ruined his life. Wanted to change his fate.

Of course, it was too late for that.

--------------

_Joe watched the guest with a smile of amusement stuck on his lips. Jackie had made herself at home and managed to alienate everyone but him at the same time. She didn't seem to care either way, but Joe found it downright funny._

"_So… you cook," he observed, after watching the girl convince Aunt Trudy out of the kitchen._

"_You have an issue with it?"_

"_Yup. How do I know you won't poison us? You know, practicing to be an assassin and all."_

"_I hate how you made that sound." Sighing, the black haired teenager rolled up her sleeves. "ATAC can't make assassins. The only people who are assassin are illegal, in my opinion."_

_He thought of the idea briefly, finally nodding his head in agreement. "It's the connotation… right?"_

"_Connotation: the feelings attached to words that alter what the denotation, or dictionary definition, means. Sounds about right."_

"_And you sound like a dictionary."_

"_I didn't mean too." She forced her gaze on the mixing bowl she had pulled out from the bottom cabinet. "It used to be something my actual parents quizzed me on. I sounded like such a loser back then."_

"_Everyone is a loser." He leaned his back against the counter, eyes suddenly searching to see if any of the adults were even close to hearing range. "Frank thought it was so bad, he tried to kill himself once."_

_The silence suddenly swept over them both, refusing to leave easily. The random sounds of pour, measuring, and stirring only began to scratch the surface of it, but never sending it away._

_Jackie was the one to finally break it. "They don't know. If they did, he wouldn't be signed up for the program."_

"_Only we know now."_

"_You want me to watch him?"_

_That was the question that Joe was struggling with. Sure, it had been a year since the attempt occurred, and Frank had showed no signs of relapse._

_But Joe never saw the first signs to begin with._

_He could imagine it with so much ease… Frank, taking the gun he had trained with… looking out of the window of the hotel that he was staying at… leveling the barrel with his head… pulling the trigger…_

"_If you don't mind babysitting," he said at least, trying in vain to hide his worries with a chuckle._

"_I can't have a dead partner," was the mumbled response, followed by the sound of flour suddenly dropping into the bowl._

"_We had a long talk," he suddenly found himself saying. "I thought he was really mad at me, because I bailed a mission once because… I dunno. I wanted to skip a mission to actually party and, you know, do teenager things."_

"_Nothing wrong with that. ATAC is stealing our childhood, so we steal it back."_

"_Steal… our childhood?"_

_She waved her hand, dismissing the question. "Continue with the epic tale or whatever…"_

"_Um… yeah… so anyways, he told me the only reason he's doing this is so they won't offer it to me, which somehow leads to me being better off than he is in the future."_

"_Makes sense."_

"_Then explain it to me."_

"_People change when they take a life. We're gonna be trained to use weapons for defense, but that doesn't mean we won't end up killing someone."_

_The ideas struck the blond, fast and painful. Taking a life… just like all the people they had captured and arrested…_

"_I get it now," he said, his voice so soft that it was barely heard in his own ears. "He just wants to protect me."_

"_And he's sacrificing himself," Jackie added. "It must be nice to have a brother like that."_

"_Yeah… but at what cost?"_

-----------------

Lion could easily count on one hand how many people he could truly trust. It would take him longer to count how many people who broke his trust. The longest, however, was how many people he had killed because they abused his trust.

He would have expected the list to be longer, but at the rate it grew, it would take no time at all to reach his expectations.

"He committed the deed?" he asked Hawk, examining the blade of the sword. The sunlight gleamed off it like a polished mirror, stinging his eyes a little.

"Yes. He took one of my vials, slipped it into the coffee, and done." She sounded bored, but he knew her too well.

"Is it bothering you that he took your vial?" he asked, attempting to make conversation before he nailed the real question.

"Why should it?"

"So it is an issue that he went through with it, isn't it?"

She said nothing at first, only examining the files she held in one hand. As the minutes passed, however, she finally broke.

"What purpose does he have after he takes care of Fenton?"

"We'll find one for him."

"Time's counting down since the second he thought of the plan."

"I already have my counter plan." Sheathing the sword, he got from his position next to the window. "Just let me do my thing."

"And if you fail?"

He shrugged in response. "Things happen. It's just a matter of how it happens."

"Well, for both of you, I hope it happens well."

"Same here, my friend. Same here."

* * *

Next chapter will be better, I promise. It'll be the face to face encounter with Snake for Frank, so hopefully I'll make that good...


	6. Chapter 6

And Snake is.... *drum roll*  
I do not own the Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

At first, all Fenton could remember was waking up in a cell. It took minutes to dawn how it happened, what had happened, _why_ it had happened. There were gaps in his understanding, but there were enough pieces to figure out the beginnings of a complicated picture.

Examining his current location took longer. It was a cell, probably no larger than six feet by six feet, tall enough so he could stand up comfortably. There was a plank attached to the wall to act as a seat, supported by chains that were attached to the stone. There was no window, and the little light that was there came from the small windows that basements have to let in little bits of light into the dreary place.

"Enjoying the limited view, Fenton?" The voice, composed of varying pitches blended together, pulled the PI away from his examination. There, outside the bars, stood the figure who had took his world, flipped it upside down, and was about to crush it.

"Snake." This was the first time that there was so little distance between the two. Even during the last time they had met "face to face" so to speak, there had been a good amount of ground between them. But this time, Fenton had an easier time trying to define the assassin.

The assassin was wearing the same clothes as their last meet. Head to toe was covered in black. The motorcyclist helmet was still resting on the man's face, concealing his face behind the tinted viewer.

"You want to see who I am, don't you? You want to know the face of the one who killed your sons and kidnapped your wife." The tone of pride could be heard despite the filter. "Don't you?"

"You-" Fenton shot up, trying to reach past the bars and choke the bastard. The assassin, however, was just an inch out of reach.

"Now, now, Fenton. If you had just asked-"

"You bastard!"

"The question is hidden in you, Fenton. I guess you don't have to actually voice it." Gloved hands slowly gripped the base of the helmet, as if waiting for Fenton to curse him again. When it was apparent that the PI had no intentions at the moment, the assassin pulled the helmet off.

A full minute passed between the two, silent enough to amplify a small breeze outside of the house.

"How could you?" Fenton finally said, his gaze dropping to the floor. "How?"

"You would be amazed, Fenton. You would."

-----------------

_Frank had woken up with blood on his hands. His throat had let out what he thought was a scream. In reality, it was only a loud moan, but his mind wasn't paying attention to his voice._

_What had happened? His memory was a blur, but small snatches came to him, stringing themselves together. There was a man, the one they were after because he had killed many for his own business ventures… he was there, at the restaurant that the teenager had went to alone. He… he was going to kill someone again, wasn't he? Frank had to stop it, but he was scared. He could kill or hurt the right way, the way to make sure this guy didn't get away or use his gun or…_

_And that was where his memory blanked out._

_That was when Frank noticed that the door to the bedroom was closed. The hotel that he, Jackie, and their mentor (what was his name again? It was like the guy kept it a secret…) were staying in consisted of two rooms, one a bedroom and one a gathering area._

_The door was usually left open. Not sure what to expect, he got up quietly, opened the door a crack, and listened._

"…_and you're using us," Jackie's voice hissed. "This whole 'Project AA' thing was just so you could use us-"_

"_Whatever are you talking about, Jackie?" Their mentor's tone was steady, as if not scared at all by the girl's statements. "We just happened to pick both of you because you showed talent."_

"_Talent? We both know that Frank can't stand to actually shoot someone, yet you keep at it. You picked Frank because you could use his against his father. You picked me because you thought you could redirect my anger and kill anyone that you wanted."_

"_Jackie, Jackie…"_

_By now, Frank's mind felt like it was going away again. Just like the night before. His hands wanted to strangle the man they thought they could trust._

"_Too bad you'll have an unfortunate accident, Jackie. And Frank might have met the same fate because you-"_

_And now Frank's mind felt lost. He wasn't in control when he slammed the door open, his hands wrapping themselves around the man's throat. And all he wanted to do was kill._

_When he finally got back to a state of consciousness, the man was dead on the floor. Jackie was sitting on the couch, shaking, her eyes not lifting from the floor._

"_What… what did I do?" Frank asked. He realized that he had been lying against an armchair, and forced himself to stand. The dry blood from before was still on his hands._

"_You… you…" Jackie's eyes refused to turn away from the corpse. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she tried again. "The reason… the reason that I came to talk to him this morning was because I had a suspicion. You just confirmed it now."_

"_Suspicion?"_

"_During the last few cases, you've changed. At night, you would suddenly get up and walk around. So… I followed you yesterday."_

"_The man." The image came back to him with great speed. "Did I kill him?"_

"_In a way, yes." She finally looked up. "I think that you developed a split personality."_

"_What?"_

"_You know, another mind. You couldn't cope with hurting or possible killing. Somehow, out of that, another personality was born to help you cope with this work."_

"_And this personality killed him and the guy yesterday." It wasn't a question. He already knew the answer._

"_I was trying to tell him-" she motioned to the dead man, "-that I was worried about your mental stability. And the guy told me to shut up. And then all the pieces fell into place."_

"_What pieces?"_

"_ATAC has corrupt members in it. They've been stealing and harassing the agents. Maybe even raping and killing. They've formed their own network to keep each other afloat. Project AA was just another part. The board member who introduced the idea, Jeremy Peters? He's their leader."_

_The two stayed silent for a bit. Finally, Frank decided to ask, "What's my other personality like?"_

"_Killing machine who enjoys his work. He called himself something. Snake, I think."_

"_Snake." The name sounded… right. He didn't know his other personality, so he couldn't know for sure, but it just worked for the killer._

"_So, what do we do now?" Jackie asked. "We can't go back to ATAC-"_

"_We stop them ourselves."_

"_What?"_

"_We can't just tell someone, since we don't know who we can trust at the moment. They'll alert each other and get away. There's a risk getting all those people who know about ATAC to go to jail, because-" By now, he was talking at such speed that his words were going to blur together._

"_Are you insane? Two kids against, what, a legion of adults who have way more power and say than we'll ever have?"_

"_We're supposed to be assassins, Jackie. It's what we do."_

_------------_

Hawk looked at the scenery quietly; the only sign of life from her was the faint movement of her shoulders when she was breathing. Lion had watched for five, maybe ten minutes, staying a good distance away from her.

"What's going to happen now?" she asked finally.

"I'm going to watch over him. I'll make sure that everything goes the way we want it to."

"So, are you the puppet master behind all of this?"

The question sat in his mind for a few seconds, being examined every possible way that it could be. Finally, he let himself smile and the answer flowed out of his lips as if it were all natural. "Of course."

"Then I suggest you control your puppets better."

"I like to let the strings loose once in a while." The smile grew into a grin, while his eyes seemed to glow and dance. "But I know when to hold them tight. And when I have to cut them."

* * *

So, who knew it was Frank since Guardian Stalker? It seemed kind of obvious to me, but then again I did know from the way beginning... hm...  
Chromde did guess at the way beginning, so she gets a round of applause.


	7. Chapter 7

Hope all of you guys had a good holiday season. Now we just need the new year to come around...

I do not own the Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

"Why?" The word pierced the silent veil that had surrounded them both. Frank seemed not to care at all about the emptiness, but it was torturing Fenton greatly. So many questions had been left unanswered by Frank that he did not understand. Why was he a killer? Why was he able to go for so long without caring? Why had he been able to escape from the PI's grasp for so long?

Why did Frank kill his own brother?

"'Why'?" Frank tossed the single word around like it was a toy. He seemed highly amused at the questions, both the spoken and unspoken. "Why would you want to know, dear old daddy? You never cared before."

"You act so different…"

"You wouldn't know the truth, would you? Always wrapped up in your own world, not ever paying more than a minute's worth of attention on you sons." He looked at his father from his sitting position, leaning against the opposite wall. "You should know that payback's a bitch. It's happened so many times in your cases…"

"What's happening to you, Frank? It's like you have-"

"A spilt personality, right?" He laughed, placing the papers he was holding on the cold stone floor. "The master private eye figured out something that quite a few people have known for some time."

"I don't understand." Frank had a split personality? When did this happen? Laura couldn't have known… could she?

"Looks like I spoke too soon." Sighing, Frank leaned his head back until it touched the wall, his eyes closed. "Other people are always there to open your eyes. That's what Snake did for me. He opened my eyes through his."

"Snake." The name of his enemy suddenly released a new wave of confusion upon him. Wasn't Frank, in fact, Snake?

It suddenly clicked into place, and the look that the newly formed idea brought to the PI's face made the teenager laugh again.

"See? Wasn't that easy?" Frank pulled a revolver out, and allowed Fenton to examine it from afar. "I was scared of using this gun when I first got it. Then Snake came along, and then bam! I was almost an expert."

"But you let Snake do the killings, don't you?" The voice patterns between the two personalities were eerily similar. But there was something in Frank's voice that Snake's voice had lacked: fear. Hopefully, that would mean that his son was still scared of this power, scared of the idea of taking someone's life and cutting it short.

"I'm not perfect, Dad. I never wanted to be an assassin." The gun was placed on the papers, Frank's eyes following the motion. "You don't understand, do you? There were two reasons why I let myself be sucked into the madness."

Silence passed between the two for no more than a half a minute, but the moments in between the seconds themselves seemed to drag on. Finally, Fenton asked, "What reasons?"

"Huh?" Frank shook his head, as if just waking from a dream that his thoughts brought on. "Oh, yes. Reasons. Well, the first one may seem obvious. If I denied, they would have asked Joe. Now, what's worth more? My life, or Joe's? I owed him for saving me from myself, and if the payment was to give up my sanity and become a killer so that he could live a normal life, then so be it."

"The second one, you probably can't understand."

"Try me," Fenton said, with some confidence in his words.

"Fine."

* * *

_"You joined because you wanted to prove something to your father?" Jackie said, her voice steady and even. Frank had a feeling that it was only a sign of the hell that she was about to break loose upon him._

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," _he thought to himself silently,_ But I didn't really scorn her, now did I?

_"Why the hell would you do such a thing?! Are you a fu-"_

"_Jackie, stop." Frank quickly surveyed the diner, hoping that no one was looking at them. It was during the busiest part of the day, which was dinner, so no one seemed to notice the outburst among the loud volume from other conversations. They had already taken precautions and did not mention ATAC directly, but even then he couldn't be sure. When he was sure no one was looking, he turned back to his dinner consisting of a hamburger and fries. "Yes, I did. It was more of a lesser reason-"_

"_But it was still a reason." Jackie pushed away her plate, her gaze focusing on him. "The fact that it is still a reason at all makes me worry."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because it could have been a bigger motivational force if you had never committed suicide. Think it like this; you never committed suicide. In fact, you never once thought about it and you didn't have any brother at all. After joining, you were offered to join this little group. The first reason you probably would have joined, no matter how many friggin' times you lied to yourself, it because you wanted attention."_

_Frank did think it over for a second. Would he have really gone through with it if Joe wasn't a factor in all of this? Would he have agreed to hurt and possibly kill if he thought his father would notice him?_

"_You're right," he finally admitted, his head hanging down. "I probably would have."_

"_Great. Now that we got that over with… What the hell are we supposed to do? If half of you-know-what is corrupted, and we're not sure who we're supposed to talk to, then what are we going to do?"_

"_I told you; we're gonna clean the mess up ourselves."_

"_And I told you, the odds are not in our favor!"_

"_They will be." Pushing the unfinished dinner to the side, he pulled out a paper from the breast pocket of his shirt. "I found some numbers that I brought with me of people in the FBI. From what I understand about this whole thing, the FBI was hoping to be partly in control of this little project. So, if they are 'watching over us,' we'll be able to get more of the things we need without much worry."_

"_And you think they'll approve this little plan of yours?"_

"_They don't have much of a choice. Another reason for why we were allowed a 'test run' was because they're getting swamped with cases that are becoming difficult to handle."_

"_Where the hell do you get all this from? A little birdie?"_

"_More or less." He allowed himself to smile for the first time since he had killed the man he once called a mentor, which was days ago. "There's been a bit less than before, but they have an ever bigger issue. Ever heard of the Assassins?"_

"_Weren't they disbanded decades ago?"_

"_Yeah. My dad helped with that. Well, some new group calling themselves the second generation have suddenly sprung up, even though it's obvious that they've been around for quite some time. So far, most of their targets are people in charge of big crime, but maybe they're trying to earn some kind of street credit before they go after the bigger dogs."_

"_So they've been distracting the FBI."_

"_Yup. They're trying to form a new Network as we speak. But this gives us an advantage. They really have to help us with this while they focus on something even bigger."_

"_So we, in essence, are the good guys?"_

"_Good guys pretending to be bad."_

"_That means that you have to go against your father."_

_The thought had struck him multiple times in the past few days as he had tried to gather the plan up. Driving away from the city where he first discovered the ugly truth of his life had given him the time to understand it all. The idea didn't sting as much._

"_We all have to make sacrifices, even if it means a good guy to save the rest." Frank never thought he would hear himself utter such words to someone. He had always been the type to try and save all, never the one to leave someone behind. But now it was different. Now it was bigger._

"_And besides," he continued, "I won't be facing him. Snake will."_

* * *

"He's still trying to justify himself," Lion said slowly to Hawk. They both sat on the ground, watching the sun beginning its decent to hide behind the horizon.

"Justify what?"

"Killing Joseph."

"I thought he had that all figured out."

"He still thinks he does, but Snake knows better. Snake knows that the small little thing inside of Frank that wonders will lead them both to death."

"Another suicide attempt?" She didn't dare take her eyes off of the colors that painted the sky. "And you're gonna let him?"

"I can't do anything to justify it. He agreed to train me because he knows that he will die soon from that question. He won't let me help. And… and I've accepted it."

"So, you're letting him die? Just like that?"

"You let Jackie die so many times, so how is this different?"

Hawk didn't answer. Instead, she got up and began to walk back to her black sports car. It was only when she was almost there when she paused and turned back. "Jackie's still inside of me, Lion. There is still a little girl who's looking for someone to love her."

"So can I call you that?"

"Huh?"

"Jackie. I want to call you Jackie. You're not really Hawk, when you think about it. You just put on that mask in hopes of fooling the world."

"Go to hell." She opened the car door, got inside, and then drove off.

He couldn't help but smile. Jackie had accepted his words. She understood what he was telling her. She was probably crying deep down inside, the little girl finally getting the hug she always wanted.

His past, on the other hand, didn't matter. It all built up to this, so why should he try to differentiate past Lion from present Lion? There were no lines drawn out, like there had been for Frank and Snake. Jackie had a line too, but she just got it confused.

Then again, maybe he just can't see his own line.

Getting up to stretch, he watched as the sun finally disappeared for the day. It made him sad somewhere inside of the thing he once called a heart. But the feeling passed, knowing that sadness was not needed for the night. Taking his gun that he had laid in the dirt, he walked into the shadows of the surrounding forest, disappearing just as the sun had; with no trace, and a promise to return.

* * *

Yes, the Assassins have appeared, even if it was only in words. If anyone actually follows the plot to the very, very end (and it doesn't end with this story, if my plans are right), you will see more and more of Casefile universe people stuck in the Undercover Brothers universe. I will make it all work out (and maybe epic, but that's just getting my hopes up).

Happy New Year!


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for taking forever on this fic. It'll be done soon (at least, this part will). The next chapter won't come for another week, though. Sorry.  
I do not own Hardy Boys.  
Enjoy!

* * *

"You think that I killed that woman?" Frank spat at his father, his face consumed with rage. Somehow, the prisoner and captor had fallen into a talk that quickly spawned a shouting match. Fenton had brought up the topic, hoping to discover what bizarre reasoning his eldest son had for killing a completely innocent woman in his quest of murders. However, he brought out something completely different.

"You killed Joe," the PI pointed out. "Who's to say you didn't kill her too?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but felt like he was slowly cracking inside.

"Joe…" The younger male seemed fascinated by his deceased brother's name, repeating it a few times while pacing in front of the bars that marked Fenton's cage. "Joe was… different. If someone else had asked for me to do what I did with him, then I would have refused-"

"He's _dead, _Frank. You killed him. It doesn't matter who asked you-"

"Joe turned to me to help him die because he _wanted_ to, Fenton." Frank spat out his father's name with venom. "Have you ever realized how many kids want to commit suicide because of this stupid world? I was one of them, and so was Joe. I would do anything for him, even if it led him to his grave."

"You're insane." The words spilled out of his mouth, not even touching his brain when they were spoken. The feeling came directly from his angered heart.

"Insane? Or just following whatever broken logic you left for me?" Frank snapped back, shooting his father a murderous look. "I will take all of the credit for Joe's death because I was only listening to his wish. But I _refuse_ to take any sort of accusations for that woman's death. She died by someone else's hands, not my own-"

"And I'm supposed to believe you?!" Fenton shouted back, disgusted by his own child. "Why the hell should I-"

"Because I'm telling the truth! Whether you believe it or not can be a whole issue all together, but the fact is I did not lay a single finger on her!" Frank's glare was suddenly turned away from his father, taking his attention to the staircase. Slowly, he dragged his feet to them. Before ascending the stairs, he turned his attention back to his father, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor. "No one believes the truth. Would you rather hear all the lies instead?"

It would be over a year before Fenton would remember the question again. But, by then, it was already too late.

---------------

_Joe stared at the picture of his dead brother._

_Dead. It was such a cruel word._

_The funeral had been what one might have called a social affair that was a grand tribute to the deceased teenager. To the lonely blond teenager, it was everyone celebrating the death of someone who was beyond a brother and best friend._

_He wondered if the world just hated them._

_It was really cruel how Jackie was killed as well. Whoever the mysterious assassin was, they must have been really twisted to take both of their lives for no know reason._

_The blond sat in his room, avoid all of the other people that had invaded the house to mourn the lost of Frank. Something in him told him that this wasn't the way Frank should be sent off, with or without a body._

_To say the lost was devastating wouldn't even begin to describe it all._

_Joe dropped the photo to the ground, burying his face in his hands. What would Frank say if he saw that his younger brother was crying over him?_/i Stop crying! Live your life! i_That was something that the brunette would be shouting to his younger brother. While he would probably do the same thing that the blond was doing if the roles were reversed, he would have likely written in his will somewhere "Please don't let my younger brother cry over me."_

_It was the type of guy Frank was. After all, he tried to commit suicide once for similar reasons._

_The suicide. Joe tried not to remember it too often. But the second that Joe had heard that his brother was dead, he thought back to that night. The blade had a sinister gleam under whatever light it could find in the darkened room, and had haunted Joe for months. It came back with a vengeance, whispering ideas that Frank had committed suicide. And this time, his brother succeeded._

_That illusion dispersed when Joe heard the means of death that had left no body to mourn, and instead left something more menacing to haunt his dreams._

_Was the death Frank given messier and more painful than a death by his own hands? It was a disturbing question to even consider, but that was all Joe could do: wonder what would have been better in the end._

_Joe turned to the photo album that laid quietly on the bed. Pulling back the plastic protective covering on the next page, the blond took another picture out of its place. He barely glanced at the pile that had grown since he had shut himself within his brother's room before trying to recall the memory that was associated with the photo in his hand._

"_Joe?" The voice was muffled due to the door being a barrier, but the teenager recognized the voice with ease._

"_Door's unlocked." He didn't make any attempt to move, instead he kept his gaze focused on his pictures._

"_Joe, how long have you been up here?" Fenton asked, hesitantly stepping into the room._

"_Dunno."_

"_You shouldn't destroy the album." The older male made a move to pick up the pile of photos, but froze once he saw the subject that had been captured. "Joe…"_

_Joe didn't respond._

_Sighing, Fenton took a seat next to the blond. He folded his hands, and let his elbows be supported by his legs. His head hung limply as he spoke. "Frank wouldn't want-"_

"_Tell me something I don't know," Joe snapped back bitterly._

_Fenton stopped, appearing to not want to antagonize the teenager over something that was literally tearing him apart with each passing moment. However, he asked another question within the minute. "Then why are you like this?"_

"_Because I lost him in the first place." Joe could have added all of the other reasons behind his sorrow, but chose not to. No point in telling the man who was the initial reason for Frank's lust for his own death._

"_You haven't lost him," Fenton said calmly. "Losing his forever means that you'll forget him. But you won't, Joe. I know you."_

_The teenager could have protested against the last sentence. After all, Fenton Hardy barely knew the truths behind his sons. But something inside of Joe broke down. He couldn't shut his father out now, could he? His brother was the reason why the blond had persisted in keeping up his shields._

_And now Frank was gone._

_When Frank had first gone off to Project AA (a name which Joe had despised from the beginning, since it indicated that his brother would become a killer), Joe had no one else to turn to but his parents and aunt. Fenton was the only male out of the three, and possibly the only one who could understand the true nature of some of the teenager's issues. It was no big surprise when the two grew closer than before._

_But could Fenton understand the lost of Frank?_

_Joe couldn't help but burst into tears. He had lost Frank, no matter what his father said. He needed that support before he crumbled away. The call for death had already begun to whisper in his ears, the gleam of the knife haunting him even more now…_

_He would never tell his father this, but would instead tell him other stories about his life over the coming weeks._

_Frank was gone, and his bond with his father would grow._

_He knew the irony of the situation so well. After all, isn't that one of the reasons why Frank wanted to die in the first place?/i_

---------------

What a fool he was.

Lion quietly reminded himself of the past as he heard Frank storm up the stairs. They had all been fools. Maybe they were all still fools right now, all trying to play a complicated chess game.

Frank leveled the barrel of the gun against Lion's temple before realizing who it even was.

"Hello Snake."

"Stop calling me that." Frank took the chair that was across from Lion and collapsed into it. The dining room table that separated the two was small and could have easily been crushed by the two leaning on it.

"Why-"

"I'm not Snake. I'm weak. I can't even kill my own father."

Lion didn't let any surprise show on his face. The boy had shown so much wanting for the death of his father by his own hands (who did it didn't matter; it was only the outcome that Frank cared for) that this confession was a new twist to everything.

He chose his next words carefully. "Are you sure it is not a strength?"

Frank laughed bitterly. "Really?"

"Pain by surviving can be the worse thing in the world sometimes. I know."

The teenager didn't respond to this. Instead, he stared at the revolver that he had placed upon the table after holding it against his fellow assassin's head. When he did finally speak, he whispered his question. "How?"

"You'll see, Frank. You'll see."


	9. Chapter 9

One more chapter to go! Yays!

This chatper is a bit more... what's the word... hm... requires a bit more maturity than the others. So you have been warned.

I do not own the Hardy Boys.

Enjoy!

* * *

Believing his own son was out of the question. Frank was a killer, after all.

Right?

Fenton watched the figure walk past his cell as if the PI didn't exist. Frank's eyes were glazed over, some dark nightmare haunting them. They alone had aged decades, if not a full century all together. His body had a slouch that had literally developed overnight. An aura seemed have melted into his very being, forecasting sadness and death to all that could see.

Somewhere, out of the sight offered by his cage, Fenton heard Frank stumble and collapse upon the cold, hard concrete. The sound of sobbing soon filled the air, breaking free from their container.

"You won, you bastard."

The words that were choked out surprised the man. Wasn't the boy defiant just the day before? Anger had fueled him, but now…

Something slid across the floor and hit the bottom bar that outlined the cell door. Moving from his position of leaning against the stone wall, Fenton's eyes reflected the glimmer of a single key that was reflecting as much light as it could receive.

"Get the fuck out, bastard. I have a date with death."

_He's going to kill someone else._ Fenton stumbled, pulling the key to his side of the cell, before attempting to reach the keyhole on the other side. A few tries awarded him with a clicking sound that broke through the sobs. The door slowly pulled itself open, offering freedom to the PI.

The first thing he did was try and put his son into the cell.

Frank didn't resist. He just got up slowly from his position on the floor, and entered the cell without a thought. Lacking the black vest that held secrets in the many pockets, the teenager appeared very much harmless and broken.

As Fenton closed the door to assure himself some kind of security, Frank spoke again, his voice stronger than before.

"You win, old man. Aren't you happy that you shattered someone who is already broken? You've done it so many other times, but it's too close to home this time."

"Frank, I'll… I'll get you help." Where did those words come from? In truth, Fenton was disgusted with someone that was apparently his own "flash and blood." Frank had taken and destroyed everything that Fenton had known, and he acts like Fenton was the one at fault?

"Lies. You never gave a fuck before, so why now?" The teenager's head was tilted down, so Fenton couldn't see his eyes. "Go and burn in hell, why don't you?"

Fenton, not knowing how to respond to the statement that Frank spat at him, just turned away and headed up the stairs. There had to be a phone somewhere. He could call someone to help him take Frank away. They could treat him and fix whatever mental issue he was going through.

The search through the first floor of the darkened, abandoned house proved fruitless. The only time he paused was to gaze out the window. How long had it been since he seen the sky? His sense of time had been stolen the moment he woke up in the cold cell to find that Frank had taken him as a captive in his madness.

But now it was his son who would be robbed of simple joys.

Fenton shook his head from the thought when he heard something outside. He moved himself from his place in front of the kitchen sink to the front door. The wooden barrier had been left open, and the storm door moved with the slight breeze. It called the PI out, revealing a car that had been parked more than a few yards away.

He walked quietly, casually wondering why the car would be parked so far from the house. When he saw the key, catching the faint moonlight, on the ground next to the door, his curiosity heightened.

The explosion the erupted behind him had all the answers, turning the house into a burning inferno.

Fenton had a sinking feeling that Frank had taken his heart and was burning with it in house.

-----------------

_"Have you ever thought of your parents as the greatest people on the planet?"_

_Frank's question startled Jackie, who had been moving some of her chemistry set into the abandoned house that they had managed to locate at the very far edge of Bayport. They had been able to secure enough capital to make any need payments for hotels, but they both knew that they couldn't use it too much. So, instead, they discovered the place and decided to make it their "headquarters."_

_Placing the empty test tubes onto a nearby table, she placed her free hand on her hip. "What's it to you?"_

"_Curious."_

"_Of course you are, asshole." She sighed. "Before my parents kicked me out of the house in the most 'graceful' way possible, I wanted to live up to their expectations. Problem is, I couldn't do shit. I sucked at school compared to my older siblings, hadn't a single talent that I was good at and was worthy of approval…"_

"_But you still loved them."_

"_Love? I think that's the wrong word. What I had was admiration mixed in with dependency and a whole mess of other issues. What you have is love."_

"_Me?" He looked up from the files that he had printed out of each and every one of their suspected targets. He had wanted to do a thorough search of each person before killing them._

"_Take what I had, add a dash of love, and that's your mindset about your dad."_

"_I'm over it-"_

"_Bullshit. If I told you that your father was the ringleader behind this whole mess, you wouldn't believe me."_

"_Understanding his set of values and caring for a parent are two separate things."_

"_Are they?" She lifted the set of glass test tubes, careful not to drop a single one of them. "A mind is a set of overlapping things, when you think about it."_

"_But that would mean that you loved your parents."_

"_Maybe once. But I haven't seen then for five years. You saw your dad a few months ago."_

_There was a pause in the conversation, which was replaced by the clinks of glass and the rustling of paper for a few minutes. Finally, Frank spoke again._

"_Snake doesn't love."_

"_Snake's weakness won't let you rely on him forever." Jackie placed the beakers that she was looking at on the table. "You'll never get a chance to talk to him. If you did, you'll see his dependency on you."_

"_Dependency?"_

"_He somehow has a way to get into your feelings. He knows when you want someone dead, and when you want them to be alright. He's a manipulative bastard, but he's your other half."_

"_What does that have to do with-"_

"_You don't want your father dead. And if you don't want him dead, Snake doesn't want him dead."_

_The words sunk in with the silence._

"_What about Joe? What if he wants me to kill Fenton?"_

"_Using his name?" the girl muttered before answering the question. "Then you might have something that would work for you. But would you really kill your own father?"_

"_I don't know." Closing the folder that he had just been looking at, Frank mentioned in a dull voice, "They used us to hide a safe, pretending that it had important ATAC information in it. They trusted Joe with the combination."_

"_Changing subjects? I thought you were better than that." Despite her statement, she dropped the subject as well. "So, when I kidnap him eventually, I should try and find it out or something?"_

"_Joe wrote it down somewhere that day. The only thing he had on that mission… I think it was his English and math notebook."_

"_Okay." Turning around to get more of the things that she had left near the front door, she quietly said, "Despite how much I hate my parents, I don't think I could kill them."_

"_You have no parents, Hawk. You killed Jackie off long ago, remember?"_

"_Right." She walked away, knowing that somewhere, in Frank's heart, Snake had injected the beginnings of a corruptive poison._

_Somehow, she couldn't blame the split personality._

------------------

Lion stayed at the edge of the forest that surrounded the burning house. His eyes danced with the flames, silently wondering how Fenton would deal with this problem.

_Snake's gone._ The idea confused him a bit. After all, Snake had high endurance when in these kinds of situations. But he wasn't surprise that he was gone like that. It was the way Snake ran into their lives, and now to disappear without a trace.

"There is a trace left," Jackie mumbled from her spot next to him. "He left Frank a gift."

"The revolver?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving that burning house. Lion realized that it was probably harder for her to watch, since she had quite a few memories laced into the old building. "I did a few tests with it myself. It has an… unusual property about it."

"Unusual," he repeated, trying to figure out what she was saying.

"It's dependent on Frank's mind."

"Really now. Hm."

"We could test it out later, but right now…"

"Go. Frank wasn't the only thing shattered tonight."

Without any recognition towards his words, Jackie silently slipped away into the shadows.

Lion watched the scene for a few more moments, only moving when the sirens began to call out from the darkness. He wondered if Jackie was the one who called the fire department, or some other concerned citizen.

The next question was about the great PI himself. After all, the aged man hadn't moved at all since he turned around to find himself facing the fire. What was running through his head, watching the flame knowing that his son was probably beyond dead at this point?

_I wonder how he's going to take the next set of news. After all, he must have loved too._

The assassin spared Frank a single thought before disappearing completely. After all, the teenager that taught Lion everything would have hated to think that he kept Lion from growing into his own brand of killer.

* * *

If you think this is bad, then the next chapter will be the pinch of salt to the wound.

There are a few hints in here about Snake, for anyone who cares to know. They kinda-sorta become important, if you really want to know.

*feels like kicking Fenton*


	10. Chapter 10

It's the last chapter! (And it's really short!)

This one is going to be dedicated to places that sell second hand books. About a month ago, I went into one and found about 40 Casefiles books that I didn't have for less than a dollar each. :D

While I do own a bunch of books, I do not directly own the Hardy Boys (because if I did, then Fenton would probably end up as a complete jackass sometimes).

Enjoy!

* * *

The drive home was depressing, to say the least.

The night filled streets and scenes passed him by in a flash, some having the glow of streetlights to brighten their appearance at certain intervals. In each one, there was at least an undertone of a reminder of what Fenton had lost because of Snake.

_How could Snake twist Frank like that? Frank would never hold a grudge to try and kill me…_

He was surprised to see the lights in the house on. Something inside told him that they should have been off (he had been the last one in that house as far as he knew, which was days, maybe even weeks ago). But instead of going on the defensive before entering the house, the PI walked in as if he had nothing to fear.

Any fear that he did have proved to be false once he saw that his wife had returned to his life.

"Laura-"

"Where's Frank?"

"Laura, Frank-"

"He risked his life to save yours," Jackie said softly, walking through the kitchen doorway with unnatural quietness. "I hope you returned the favor."

The single statement pulled the anger out of the eldest Hardy. "Return the favor?! He tried to kill me! How can you defend-"

"You don't know? How could those two even try to look up to you?" While she was staring straight at him, her eyes revealed that he was not actually reflecting to her mind. "Frank told me once, 'When you deal in death, you must first live in death.' But he was scared about what he would leave behind if he did die."

"We went to the FBI the day that because of Frank's fears. That woman died, yes, but it was not by our hands. If it adds to anything, Frank tracked down the killer himself. It took days and almost set back our plans. And in the end…"

"He took the guy to the police."

The words almost washed over the PI. "…what?"

Jackie turned around, not facing either one of the adults as she spoke in a low voice. "I wondered why he wouldn't just kill him himself. But he was persistent in the idea that he would see to the murderer's fate rather than Snake. Maybe it was because he really didn't want to be a killer."

The last words were barely whispered.

"Or maybe he wanted to prove something to you."

The world around him shut down as Fenton collapsed onto the floor, visibly shaking. He could hear Laura's voice off in a distance. But all that he could truly hear as his head was the footsteps of the retreating girl.

_She's lying. Frank was a killer._

But his heart knew better.

Frank had not been the true danger in this case. He could have been saved before it all began. If only Fenton had protested more, or taught his son more about a sense of justice rather than let him he lured into revenge and death.

Fenton lost both of his sons in the process, and could never get them back.

--------------

_"I can't believe it…" Joe muttered, looking at his brother with wary eyes. "You… you're Snake?"_

_"Snake's just a-" The rest of the sentence refused to come out of Frank's mouth. After all, Snake was more than a split personality now. Snake had officially left his imprint, and was slowly fusing with whatever remained of Frank's soul._

_"A what?"_

_"I… I don't know anymore," the brunette managed to whisper, his fingers wrapping around the cold metal bars that formed the cage for his brother. "Joe, listen…"_

_"You faked your death, developed a split personality who's an assassin, and managed to scare the shit out of Dad while kidnapping me." Joe's blue eyes seemed to liven with rage. "Do you know what kind of hell you put me through?"_

_"I have an idea," was the muttered answer. "Joe, I want to ask you-"_

_"Snake almost killed me! Not that I didn't ask him to do it, but he could have at least done the job before the anger got through-"_

_"Don't say that!"_

_The outburst startled them both. Frank used the bars as support as he slid to the floor. "I never want you to die. Remember why I didn't commit suicide?"_

_"And look where you ended up now," Joe said bitterly._

_"Joe, would you like Dad to suffer?"_

_"I- What?"_

_"Snake has the skills to torture Dad far beyond what has already been done. He needs to learn, Joe. He needs-"_

_"Are you out of your mind?! He's out dad for a reason!"_

_"He also left us without a father figure for most of our lives."_

_"Yeah, but, but still-!"_

_The blond paused in his statement, quietly thinking. After a moment, he said, "I don't want Dad dead, Frank. He might be the ultimate bastard, but he's still half of the reason why we were born."_

_"So, no?"_

_"No, instead, I want you to kill me."_

_"What?!"_

_"Kill me like you've killed yourself. I might not want Dad dead, but I want to teach him a lesson in my own way."_

_It barely took a moment for Frank to realize what his younger brother was asking him to do. Silently, he wondered which death that the world could offer would have been a better choice for the blond._

--------------

"He doesn't get it," Lion muttered to the teenage girl, before slipping out of the back door. "How many times will we have to shatter his life before he understands?"

"I don't know anymore. To see a man barely understand what he has done…" Jackie shook her head. "This world has fallen apart."

"Not fallen. Broken."

And with that, the last of the assassins slipped into the night, wondering.

* * *

Short and... not sweet. Yeah.

The flashback was from the scene in Guardian Stalker after Snake almost kills Joe the first time (basement, jail cell, and journal pages may ring a bell). And this is the main reason why Frank hasn't allowed Snake to kill Fenton.

Fenton is still an asshole in the end. He has not yet grasped fully why his sons did what they did. While he did show some hope of change and understanding, his own ideas have been in his head for too long, and after dealing with being a kidnapped victim by his own son (and killer split personality) as well as realizing that said son killed the other son... yeah. His ignorance will be his undoing. Seriously, how did this guy become a world class PI? (Oh, right, I made him OOC...)

So... this will conclude with one more story called Stepping on Glass. I'll start posting it in... June 2010. (Studying and trips. It's gonna be a long May... -.-)

Thanks to everyone who read (and reviewed)! I'm hoping that this is getting better (slowly...) *hugs everyone*


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